


My Love Has Concrete Feet

by kingstonmcbride



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 05:50:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3108437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingstonmcbride/pseuds/kingstonmcbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the hospital. After Atlanta. Carol and Daryl find a moment to breathe.<br/>His voice was drained, exhausted. “We need to change that dressing on your shoulder.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Love Has Concrete Feet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenpeletier (areyoumarriedriver)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/gifts), [surena_13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surena_13/gifts).



> I don't write a lot of fic AT ALL. Like count on two hands for all fandoms. And I think Carol and Daryl are probably one of the hardest to write for in terns of capturing their voices and staying in character. But this came into my head and so I just wrote it down. I'm kind of terrified about putting it out there, but here it is.

They found a place, after the hospital.

After Atlanta.

After the truck was swarmed with walkers.

The group fought them off while Maggie stayed inside holding onto her little sister’s body. Carol sat beside her, stilled by physical pain and grief, and feeling completely helpless.

Then they walked. Until they found a field, full of corn softly swaying in the breeze underneath an impossibly blue sky, untouched by the hell all around them. And they buried Beth while Maggie’s hoarse sobs filled the silent air once again.

The house behind the field reminded Carol of the farm, of the grove. That same sense of family, love, safety. And that same sense of loss. Another girl, dead and buried in a beautiful place, taken out by a nightmare world.

They gave her the main room. A big bed, dusty, but no blood or bodies, a welcome rarity now. She sat on the bed and exhaled. “Hey.” His voice was drained, exhausted. “We need to change that dressing on your shoulder.”

The concern in his tired voice was apparent and she fought back the tears. “Yeah”, she replied quietly.

“Y’okay with me doing it, or you want me to get Michonne?” She lifted her head. “I don’t mind Daryl, whatever.”

He grunted softly. “I got the stuff with me, might as well do it?”

She felt the pressure on the bed as he sat softly behind her. Undoing her shirt, she tried to shrug it off and gasped, the pain searing through her like ice. Gentle hands came up to pull the material down and then she was sat in her vest top, her shirt bunched around her waist. Daryl carefully pulled the dressing off and then she heard his sharp inhalation.

“Is it bad?”

“Nah, just cut, looks okay, not infected.” His finger traced a line on her shoulder.

She’d forgotten. How could she have _forgotten_?

“Oh, that…” His finger was still, resting on the rough skin. “Ed got really mad one night, broke a bottle, my shoulder was nearest.” She felt him tense, felt the anger radiating off him and blinked more tears back. An empty chuckle escaped her, “I’d forgotten about it.”

And then gentle lips were on the scarred flesh, a brief touch followed by soft words, “Well I ain’t never gonna.”

He pulled away then, working on the dressing quietly, no more words between them until she heard his whisper. “I lost her. I lost Beth. Dumbass, _useless_ piece of shit, I - ”

She turned, the sobs making her way up her throat and choking her. “No. Don’t…we _all_ lost her. This world it just _takes_ people Daryl, it takes the good and it twists it and it kills it, and that’s it.”

Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Quiet and calm, yet her insides felt like they were screaming and tearing to get out. Swallowing it down she put her forehead to his and took his hand in one of hers, forcing some lightness into her voice.

“We’re _tryin’_ , remember?”

She felt him exhale against her lips, as the wet drop of his tears fell onto her hand, and she drew him closer.


End file.
